Regrowth
by Box Of Sky
Summary: The Guardians stop on a small planet for fuel, and an encounter there forces Rocket to fight his demons, while bringing them all even closer together. Oneshot. (title probably sucks)


Everything had started out fine. They were stopping for fuel on some tiny outlying planet, and they had all split up. Drax and Groot (about the size of a small child, and eight million times more adorable) had gone to find some food for everyone. Peter stayed near the ship for some reason, and Rocket ended up dragging Gamora to the bar. A riot of color and noise and smells greeted them as they walked in. All types of aliens drank here, so Rocket and Gamora went almost completely unnoticed.

Gamora tilted her head down so Rocket could hear her better and shouted, "This place is even filthier than Quill's ship!" She waved her hand to indicate a slightly cleaner, less crowded corner of the large bar."I'll be over there, yell if you need me." Rocket looked in her direction to see a green arm snaking through the crowd, then she was gone. Suddenly, he bumped into something. No, someone. He craned his neck to look at the huge, rhino-like blue guy's face. He seemed familiar... It hit Rocket. The Groot's-fingers-up-his-nose guy from the Kyln. How did he escape? Rocket's hand instinctively went to his weapon belt. Shit! He only had one smallish, older blaster-type thing with him. He mentally slapped himself. Must have left it on the ship, Rocket remembered, thinking about the sweet-ass new gun he had built the day before. He quickly turned away, ringed tail disappearing between a pair of gross flaky, scaly legs, hoping the guy hadn't seen him. No such luck for Rocket today. A giant, leathery blue hand seized the tip of his tail and gave it a powerful pull. Rocket tried to anchor himself on the scaly legs, but the guy was too strong and ow ow ow that fucking hurt- His claws ripped through the nasty leg skin, murky greenish blood spurting out and spraying him in the face. A high-pitched gurgling screech erupted from above his head, but Rocket didn't care.

"Well, well, well, what do we got here?" the blue dude asked, smirking. "Prison vermin, huh?" Rocket growled loudly, teeth bared ferociously, blaster thingy drawn. "I say we teach this rat a lesson, huh, boys?" He looked over his shoulder, obviously drunk, at two yellow-skinned goons Rocket hadn't noticed before. He cracked his huge knuckles, the sound like gunshots, grinning grotesquely. "No tree here to save you now," he hissed at Rocket. Rocket pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. _Dammit! You stop working now!?_ Quick as a flash, Blue grabbed Rocket in both hands, cutting off his air. In his surprise, he dropped the blaster. Gamora saw something in her peripheral vision, flying through the air. She looked up immediately, squinting through the darkness. Rocket. Gamora ripped through the crowd, not apologizing to anyone. She got there just in time to see Rocket's body hit the solid wall with a sickening crunch, then fall to the floor. Her eyes darted around, looking for the culprit. A large, horrible blue-skinned man laughing with two friends. With no hesitation, she grabbed a knife from her leg and threw it into the guy's exposed stomach. He stopped laughing and keeled over backwards, his friends too drunk to help him. As gently as she possibly could, Gamora scooped up the unconcious, broken-looking form of the raccoon and ran out of the bar, not even looking back when Rocket's discarded blaster finally went off, creating a smoking hole in the wall.

Drax and Groot had already returned and loaded their food into the Milano's fridge. The refueling was finished and Peter was ready to take off. "Where the hell could they possibly be? It's been, like, an hour."

"No, it hasn't," Drax said. "Only fourteen minutes." Quill rolled his eyes at the ever-literal man.

"I am Groot?" Groot asked in a concerned tone, low voice contrasting with his small body. This meant "Should we go look for them?" Even though Drax and Quill couldn't understand his words, they understood his meaning.

"Maybe we sh-" A frantic banging on the hatch door cut Peter off. Drax rushed over to find Gamora, breathing hard and carrying a knocked-out Rocket, whose right leg and left arm were bent at odd-looking angles. His face fur was caked with weird green sludge. Quill's eyes widened.

"He needs a hospital." Gamora said severely, walking quickly into the nearest bedroom, Peter, Drax, and Groot following openmouthed. She set Rocket's body down on the bed (Drax's) and turned to the other three Guardians.

"Holy shit..." Peter said in a low voice. "What happened?" As Gamora recounted their bar story, Drax's hands clenched into fists, while Groot's face morphed into pure concern. As soon as Gamora finished talking, Peter left to set the coordinates for the nearest medical facility. To his surprise, wherever they were didn't have one. ("What the fuck kind of planet doesn't have a hospital?") Unfortunately, it was about five hours away. Quill gunned the engine and sped away at full throttle, face serious.

_4:21 until destination._

Drax knew almost nothing about raccoons, especially genetically modified ones, but he did know this: Rocket was definitely in a lot of pain for such a small creature. He checked for a heartbeat for the third time. Faint, quiet, slow. Gamora had looked over Rocket. Two broken limbs, probably a bad concussion. As she watched him, a trickle of his own blood dripped from his mouth. She wiped it away and ran out to ask Quill if they could go any faster.

Rocket tried to open his eyes. The world felt numb and fuzzy, and his eyes just kept falling shut. This pissed him off. He dimly registered a low murmur of 'I am Groot'. Rocket smiled sleepily and faded out.

Rocket's eyes opened wide, dark pupils contracting at the sudden bright light. He looked around. Why was everything so white? Whose bed was this? He was definitely not on the Milano, it had probably never been this clean. He looked down at himself. A strangely familiar clear tube was hooked into his arm. His eyes followed the tube, heart beating faster and faster. No. NO! It wasn't possible. Not back here again. Where was Groot? Where were his friends?! Increasing beeps filled the air as Rocket's lungs filled with panic. It rose up inside of him like a wave. He frantically tried to remember what had brought him here, to another lab. A different one, cleaner, larger, with different instruments BUT STILL THE SAME! Rocket's breathing had become hysterical, tears absorbed by the fur on his face. He used his claws to slash through the tube. A salty liquid spurted out, landing all over him, including in his left eye. He shrieked and howled, claws shredding the thin white sheets. Through his haze of pain, he could not sense the person approaching, or the sting of the needle in his arm. Rocket fought to stay conscious, but eventually he was dragged down.

Rocket woke, gasping like a fish. His sleep had been troubled with nightmares of his days in the lab- it wasn't even really a lab, he thought, more like a torture chamber. Rocket tried to sit up, but he had been tied to the bed. This brought on a fresh flood of screaming and cursing and digging his claws into everything. Rocket tried to cut the restraints to no avail. Suddenly, four large figures burst in the door, shadowed by Rocket's blurry eyes. "Please!" Rocket yelled in desperation, holding back his tears. In the lab, if you showed fear or cried, you were shocked. If the shock was too strong... Well, no loss to them, right? Rocket thought bitterly. "Please don't hurt me. Or my friends! They're probably coming to find me right now!" Rocket's speech suddenly took a darker turn. "I don't know what happened, or what you did to them, but they WILL COME BACK! And beat your asses." Stunned, the four figures drew closer to Rocket, and he blinked furiously. No fear, no tears. No fear, no tears. He looked up at his assailants, ready to fight, when he saw their faces. It was... his friends? "Guys? Are- are you really here? Like, I'm not hallucinating?"

It is the quiet "I am Groot," and the soft tendril brushing against his face, that lets Rocket know he is safe.

Drax pulls out a knife from Gamora's leg and slices off the restraints. "Rocket, this is a hospital, not a lab. Believe me, there is a difference," Gamora says gently.

_Her too_, Rocket thinks, and a new flood builds inside him: compassion. "So... Why am I here?"

"According to Gamora, you were thrown into a wall. Your left femur and your right kneecap are broken, and you had a concussion." says Drax.

"Damn. Um... Thanks, guys. For bringing me here." The next sentence is unbelievably quiet, but they all hear it. "And caring."

Quill is staring at Rocket, but clears his throat and goes "You won't really be able to walk for a while, so what do you want to do about that?"

"Seriously? Shit!" Rocket exclaims, throwing back the covers to reveal a pair of casts.

Everyone laughs, and Gamora says, "Well, at least you can still make stuff. Your arms are fine."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No more bombs on my ship!"

Rocket sighs deeply, but agrees. "When can we leave?"

"Right now," says Drax, grinning. Quill scoops Rocket up from the bed and holds him like a small child, despite his protests. They walk back to the Milano, which was parked pretty close to the hospital, taking turns carrying Rocket. When it is Groot's turn, he grows a little nest on his shoulder, which Rocket immediately crawls into. He falls asleep gently, lulled by the sway of Groot's walk.

The next time he comes to, he is on the Milano, safe with his friends. Rocket feels deep down, for the first time, that this is where he belongs.


End file.
